Unlucky
by Shoedynn
Summary: A Turian cop, hoping to breeze through his job and life, finds himself starting to try when he is forced to do his job with his new, enthusiastic, and inexperienced partner.
1. The Usual

A/N: So just to expand on the summery (because I can) I'm not sure how this story will go. I watched _Brooklyn's Finest_ with Richard Gere and Welsley Snipes and man, cops have it hard.

With that said, I think an imperfect cop on the Citadel who's drifting along until they're thrown on the crazy train is wicked. Destination: AWESOME TOWN! Population: YOU!

* * *

Another day that wakes me up, and another person is lying face down on the Wards in their own blood. Even at nine at night, it's too early for the flashing police lights, and the looping sirens, and the smell of a steadily decomposing body. Witnesses are being pushed away while some guys are trying to calm the crowds. One of the detectives I see is having an interview with some excited reporter – excited over the murder I guess and ready to explode on the case above and beyond for maximum ratings.

Meanwhile, I'm standing over the corpse and waiting for the clean-up crew to come and scrape this poor bastard off the floor. I'm use to it at this point in my "career" you could say. Babysitting a dead body is something I'm use to now, and why complain when I can just stand here and be paid to look busy. Some are shocked at how I can be so lazy at my job, especially since I'm a Turian, but I don't care.

The way I see it, I have my own skill that no one else has, and that's luck. Luck is where _I_ put all my energy. It's not the same luck that many think about; I've never won anything, and I'm paid less here than some first-time stripper at Chora's Den. I'm sure the fucking bartenders there are making more credits than I am. Almost makes you want to be the "bad guy" but like I said, I have a different luck. I can coast by everyone, and everything, and live a life without worry, without change, without care.

Can you do nothing on your job and get away with it while being paid? Have you ever been able to just avoid any personal ties from getting in the way? When you sit down and think about your life, what do you think about: your job, bills, relationships, rumors, self-esteem, health, and family? Well, I don't, and never will.

My family is dead (as far as I care) and I'm free of any emotional baggage like a partner, a lover, or even friends. My salary pays just enough for my bills, and food, and I even have a few extra creds leftover to get myself a drink. And my only real goal in life is to retire without any major injuries; and these dead people aren't too threatening. I laugh at the victim, only because I've become more accustom to the dead than the living. I mean, you know where the dead stand, or I should say lie, and that's "six feet under" as I heard some human say one time. Also, I laugh at him because I'm a lot luckier than that poor bastard.

"Kert!" This is when I'm not so lucky. My superior, Katilan Johnson, has been on my back far more than I'd want him to be, and I don't want her even around me. "Kertan Valenteese!"

"Yes ma'am?" I don't bother to cover up my annoyance in her sudden appearance. Here she goes on and on about my attitude and performance on the job – the lack of it is where she focuses on mostly. Finally, she shuts up about that, and tells me to ask her how she's doing.

"Go on, say it!" He face is pale, and I can see every twitch in her face, every nerve popping out. "I've had it up to here with you, Kert!" Her hand reaches above her head and hovers parallel to the floor. I'm always amused by humans using their hands and face to talk as much as their mouths, like they have so much to say that they need their limbs and body to indent on the points in their conversation. But I've noticed that this human _especially_ can rant a mouthful without using her appendages, though she still does.

"How is your day going?" I stand there, leaning on one leg, arms folded, staring right back at her.

"Ma'am," she insists.

"Ma'am?" I try to mock her, but she goes back into rant mode and sums up her life in about a minute. Something about working hard and teamwork is the moral of the story.

"And another thing… Try to actually listen to this one." Her voice is not as loud, and she moves me closer to her, and starts another heart-to-heart. "You've never cared about anyone, or anything, going into this job with no ambition, no determination, and no _fucking_ goal aside from finishing everyday until it's over. All while I've been pushing through these Turian filled ranks just to prove I'm the best. And you know what?"

Another rhetorical question, I feign enthusiasm to answer it with, "What?"

"I am." And just like that she trips me and pushes me to the ground, right next to the body, about as close to _it_ as I was to her. I'm about to raise myself upright when her C-sec standard footwear pins me down by the chest. The crowd doesn't seem to notice that much, and I think everyone else knows but is ignoring it. Officers are carrying along like nothing is happening. She bends the same knee on this very heavy foot of hers, and rest her chin, in her hand, on that elbow, on top of her knee, she simply states, "and you, HA! You're not." I've never seen a smile so hideously threatening before.

And that's where I am when I realize something about myself. That's when I realize something so shiningly important about me. It's with her foot on me, with everyone not giving me a quick look (and probably laughing amongst themselves) that I finally understand.

I'm still lucky, but everyone look at me with envy,

Everyone, even Lt. Katilan Johnson, and all the other lowly officers around me, wish they could breeze by with my ease and skill; with my luck. But they can't and they never will, so they all hate me and whisper this and that to each other about me. Well it's wasted air because I never cared in the first place, and I won't ever.

She's still on top of me, and I want to make a smart as comment about that, but she still has a clear shot at my crotch, and that foot is _very_ heavy. Still, I say, "Is that all ma'am?" Her smile goes, and eventually she gets off me and walks away. I think it's over when she get in a car and zooms off back to the academy, but then on of the officers (a lacky most likely) comes up to me and sticks out a data pad.

As I reach out, he drops it before I can get it, only saying that it's for me before copying the LT and walking away. And though part of me wants to leave it there, I'll just have to hear her complain and bitch at me in the morning when I tell her I never got it. And picking it up, and reading what it says, I almost wish I had.

It reads, "I'm far to pissed at you to tell you and person and hear you complain and bitch, though I know you'll just do that in the morning, like always." Some coincidences, but reading on, it gets worse. "Watching you stand there with your tumbs up your ass with everyone else doing their job professionally like adults really made me think of something. Something terrible that can only affect someone like you in just such a way to communicate the collective hatred everyone on the team feels for you. As well as maybe even change your behavior, but we're not holding our collective breathes."

Even when she writes I want to shoot myself, but really causes me to toss the thought of killing myself is the punishment of a partner. "His name is Alexander Mitzka, and don't try to avoid him, because you're going to be together for a long, long, long, loooooooonnnng time." The only thing I can think of is just my lack of "skill" in this.

* * *

A/N:If you enjoyed this, please raise awareness about it via a beautifully hand-typed comment.

I DO NOT KNOW how often I can update, but I'm really going to try now that all my summer homework is done.

PEACE&LOVE


	2. A New Day

A/N: Alright, a bigger and badder (in a good way) chapter!

Just to clear some stuff. This is set between ME1 and ME2. The Citadel is about in as much a state as it was in ME2.

Also, I'm not sure if I'm going to ship Kert anyone yet. I've been doing romance after romance. This is just cop-buddy/drama for the first chapters.

...but who knows later on?

* * *

I couldn't sleep at all, and it's almost time to go to work. This new partner thing has me pretty pissed off. As soon as I came home, I just lied down in bed, and haven't moved since. I mean, I can't even move I'm so paralyzed by hate and anxiety, but I'm a little excited too. Not for the person of course, just the possibilities to have someone else do all my work. The data pad didn't tell me anything else aside from his name…

Alexander Mitzka.

The clock says "6:00" and it's time to start the ritual as usual, with the added bonus of not needing to shower or dress. I turn over in my bed till I reach the edge. Suddenly overcome by last night's nonexistence, I feel tired. I'll just get an energy drink for the fridge and make it through most of the day. I sit on the bed's edge and crack the bones in my body: first the neck, then the arms, my back next, down to my toes and fingers. I get up to stretch my muscles, and yawn out whatever I've left inside me. Now I'm really tired, but I just have to solider to the fridge to stay up.

Walking about a yard from my bed, I walk through the door to the kitchen. A yard more, and I bump into fridge with my toes. It hurts like hell, but I've got nothing to shout with, so I just squint my eyes and complain quietly to myself. Opening it, I find some energy drinks and microwavable breakfasts. I take one of each, pop the drink into my gullet and rip the pre-made-meal open and smack it on a metal tray. Turning on the oven, I slide the meal in there and wait five to ten minutes. I'm in a rush though, so I'll just turn it on high or something.

The stove is next to the fridge, with no space in between. Between the two and the wall is just enough space for my stove's door to go partially down. From this walkway I can go, and do go, into the other half of the room. It fits an end table and a chair I found in my dad's living room. It's the most expensive thing in the whole place, and even then that's not worth a whole lot. My kitchen/dining room is gray, and lit up by a dull fluorescent light that covers almost the entire ceiling; there's enough space left for the ventilation. I once thought I'd have to move incase there was ever a fire in here, but aside from oxygen, there's nothing in this room to burn.

I decide to drink some water from the sink in the closet of a bathroom I have here. On my left, from the "dining" area, there is a very small, close quarters of a space that has a toilet, shower, and sink. Turning on the light shows off the gorgeous white on white on gray design, all metal, and all reflecting the all _too_ bright light that I can never get use to. The water is cold though, and splashes nicely on my face, relaxing. Then I look at the hazy mirror that reminds me that I'm barefaced.

It's more of a choice than anything else. I don't care about people, I don't swear loyalties, and there's nothing for me back at my home. Certainly no one is there to welcome me warmly. I just don't care about how people see me, and that makes me stronger in a lot more ways than the conforming and hypocritical meritocracy that poignantly states how everyone is about you. I start to think more about how everyone, more than just my race, is trying to fit in and be like the main character in a movie, where everyone is happy and nothing is wrong. Am I the only person that can see how everyone is just delusional? I look away and take another handful of water and throw it to the back of my throat.

Then I hear the bing from the oven's timer, which must mean breakfast is burnt to ash, or still solid as ice. I take another glance then turn the lights off. The reflection's stare still looking back at me in a burned gaze, almost like the lights still aren't off. Whatever. Breakfast seems to be burnt-ish, so I'll just eat what I stick a fork in. Taking it out to let the smoke clear up through the vent, I chug the energy drink as fast I can to get past the shit taste it leaves on my tongue; it still taste like shit no matter what. I pick at the food, and looking between the cartoon extravaganza on the box it came in and the product left behind, I can hardly recognize what parts are which. Still, I stick my utensil in what I think is "egg" and chew on through.

This is the routine that I'm use to, and though it contradicts my looping rant about how I have luck, it's a lot better than most people on the wards. This food sucks, this apartment sucks, and my life sucks. I understand this fully and thoroughly, but I've gotten this much by doing almost nothing. Sometimes I entertain the thoughts of wealth and fame if I tried hard, but then I hate myself because that just sucks me into the whole notion of "success" on this station – and everywhere else too. I'm satisfied, and that's what real luck does.

It keeps you going on a plateau, and only when it leaves you do you know you've had it in the first place. Most don't think much of it for that very reason – it can come and go as it pleases and will never be enhanced or diminished by practicing. The thing is, it's a skill to me because I _can_ follow it. And keeping that idea floating in my head as I finish up the rest of the food and throw out everything that's trash, it keeps me from submitting to this society's bullshit.

I turn my omni-tool on, check the time, and as usual I'll be late.

.

..

…

..

.

Strolling by the people complaining about their lives, and one especially eager one who even tried to talk to me (I answered him with, "Not my job!" and continued) I make it to the my next challenge. Make it to my desk _without_ attracting the attention of Ms. Johnson, or Prissy Bitch Johnson if I'm feeling up to it – or Ms. PBJ if I want to be funny and sly.

I'm almost there, making past some of the other officers and sergeants. I'm almost there, and then I realize something's wrong. A smell of death floats across my nostrils and burns. I turn the corner and walk into my room with that I already knew. Her.

"You are twelve minutes late." Every syllabul of each word is said without emotion, not one stressed letter, and that cold face of hers only convinces me further she's a Geth in disguise. She doesn't even look at me. Her feet are on my desk the whole time, as she plays some game on her omni-tool, as well as talking about me as usual. "When you were hired, I believe they told you the times you needed to come in, yes?"

I don't answer, but she doesn't miss a beat.

"There are people in trouble, and all you can do is come sneaking into your own workplace, trying to avoid me." I'm a bit shocked at how she knew, but then again, I've been doing this same routine for a few years now, and she's seen me do it from the beginning.

"I wasn't always avoiding you," I reply, in the same tone as hers. "Before you stole your job from that other guy, I was avoiding him." That catches her attention, and her head pulls up faster than I've ever seen. I can see her green eyes, and they are not something I want to look into right now. You get lost in them, and not in the romantic way, but more in the loosing direction in some woods surrounded by Varren.

She finally retorts back with a simple, "I earned everything." Which has to be another attack at me with how I get what I want without try. Those eyes of her are what humans consider the color of envy, and it shows. She continues with a reminder about my new partner, but I'm still too focused on the issue at hand about her sitting at my desk.

"…so I told him to wait for you outside about twenty-two minutes ago, though he only should have waited _ten_ minutes if you weren't – "

"I want my desk."

I can see that the interruption was a shocker to her ego, but the remark is what really stunned her. She came back with, "And why would I do that?" Her back leans far too exaggeratedly into my seat, and she re-crosses her ankles on top of my fucking desk.

"This is where I work." I state, trying to hold back my temper.

She calmly states, "You work? Since when?"

"This is my work-space, so you should go into _your_ work-space. Y'know, play with your dolls and think up more dicks you could suck to get to the position of Captain."

"Awwwwww," She almost laughs. "That's real cute. Is that how you talk to a lady?"

"You're a chick?"

"Well I'm sure that's a sight to you. From what rumors say, you're only release is in a bottle."

"Well Miss Prissy Bitch Johnson, if you don't find a way to release yourself, you might be to high-strung to blow Pallin for that promotion you want!"

Both of us are screaming, but the sounds of the station are able to veil the noise enough that you'd only be able to tell if you saw us. She stands up now, leaning on her hands, which are stapled to her side of _my_ desk, and I mimic the pose on the opposite side. This fight is too good to just pass up.

"Look here, Kert! I worked hard for everything cent of this pay, and every promotion I received was from honest work! I'm sure that's hard for you to believe, but than again, you've never made it past Officer!"

We joined the force on the same day, and since then, that's the only thing we've had in common. She works and works and works. Everyone calls her fridged this and stuck-up that, and as they mocked, she soared. They still say all those things out of spite. I just say them because it's fun.

"You know, you compare yourself to me an awful lot, and always talk about me, even to my face! Hey, if you're looking for that release, I have to say I'm flattered, but I'm not about to cross the species barrier just to help you!"

"You wouldn't help anyone if it meant more than doing jack-shit! And even _then_ I think you still wouldn't do it! What is so fucked up in your noggin that you can't even do your mother fucking job? You're fucking job!"

I'm over this, and I just want this to be over. I don't want to do this anymore, and she's annoying me more than entertaining me.

"Sprits! Just gimme my damn desk back, you egotistical, self-centered, bitch!"

"_I'm_ self-centered? Me? But not you, right? You're above the 'pettiness' of society and it's 'strict rules' and all that 'bull-shit' bull shit, right? FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK YOU TOO!"

She knocks over my chair with her heel and daggers are thrown from those damn eyes of hers. There's a silence. After what seems like an hour (but turns out to be a little less than three minutes) she orders me to go outside, but Alex Mitzka, and after I "finally do [my] fucking job," that I'll find my desk empty and as before. I throw in an order of my own, and tell her to put my chair back where she found it. I leave the room to the sound of my chair being torn apart, broken, and I think even shot at.

Like I told her, she can't stop thinking about me.

* * *

A/N: Ah, and another chapter done. I'm feeling every excited about this story, so please don't read, fav, and NOT COMMENT!

Something as simple as, "More tits!" or "So, I don't get it." should be ...not typed, but something ELSE like that wouldn't be minded.

Anyway, more to come, I guarantee it!

PEACE&LOVE


	3. Something Else

A/N: This one had to be cut short only because the time/space shift was just a tad too long to have it linger on. I'll just expand on it and make it the 4th chapter.

This is the FINAL intro of character personalities and what not. After this, nothing but action and drama for Kert, Alex, and Katilan. ENJOY!

* * *

It wasn't difficult too find Mitzka. With everyone else running around and talking to others, he was just standing by the elevator, looking at his clock every minute, on the minute. I know this because I wasn't too psyched to go rushing up to him and greet him with a friendly welcome. If I had the choice I'd just return to my desk, but because it no longer belongs to me, I'll have to compromise.

Another minute passes and he's getting anxious. From what I can tell, he's very new here, new to the Citadel from what I can see. He's amazed and awe struck at every passing species that goes along with their business as usual. His face is weird, I think, even for a human. He has a nose that tips upward on the end, and he has a pretty fat under-lip. The eyes are small, but not beady, and I think they might be blue or something. He's tan, close to a light brown, and it looks like every exposed inch of skin has a stem of hair growing out of it.

Another minute passes, and I think he's starting to wonder if _he's_ in the right place. I could play this game all day with him. I just stand from afar and study him like a lab rat in a maze. Still, the sooner I get shit done, the sooner everything will be in order. I guess I should introduce myself; I just need to be monotone and say almost nothing. Maybe repeat something from a C-Sec seminar. Eh, that's too much effort. Fuck it! He'll probably want to transfer partners in a few days tops.

As I'm closing in on him, he notices me, and already comes in closing the gap between us. That smile is huge and too perky for my enjoyment. I bet he's excited to be here on his first day, even though I'm late. Just stay focused, tell him to get the cruiser, and lie to him with a promise of a normal, energetic day.

"Hi!" I think he's been holding that in. Even though he's happy, he sounds more annoyed. "You must be Officer Kertan Van…" Oh great, another human trying to remember my name. Is it that difficult?

"Vantal_eese_ is how it's pronounced in your language." I blatantly share my irritability with that. His smile goes for a second, but comes jumping back like a Thresher Maw.

"Right," he says. "I've had the cruiser brought up, so we can just hit the patrol routine as soon as you're ready." He must be high on Red Sand or something like that because the way he said, "hit the patrol routine," makes it sound like a candy land fantasy. He starts to introduce himself, but I'm becoming increasingly intolerable with his face, and voice, and that smile.

I just state plainly, still sounding pissed off, "I know who you are, so don't patronize me. You just watch me, okay?" I walk past him, and I would have shoved him too if he didn't turn away from my shoulder. I go to the elevator, and turn to see him just standing there. I think I finally got my point across to him, because he's showing almost no emotion on that face of his.

Something starts to come to mind, but I don't feel like talking, because I'm not going to apologize for his big buildup of his first partner to come crashing down. This is the real world, and he has to get used to that. I ask him if he's going to go. I don't care if he does, I just need to know if I actually have to wait for him or not. He just says he'll be a little late, and walks off. The elevator door closes, and now _I_ have to wait. Well, it beats patrol over anything.

As soon as I get the garage floor, I can see how easy it is to spot my cruiser. The entire row of the morning patrollers is empty except for mine. I let out a small laugh at this, but only enough for me to hear. I walk up to it, tap it like the pet I feel it is, and sit on the hood and wait for Alex to get his whining ass up here. Still, even though I'm waiting, I'm about as thrilled to get out there and loop around the same neighborhoods as I ever was, which isn't a lot.

A few more minutes pass by and I'm getting use to the silence. I never did like all the loud noises and shouts that I hear around the offices and on the streets. My like hole of an apartment is something I'm far more used to than most would think on their inspection. It's a shit-hole, but it's _my _shit-hole… uh, not like that. I'm starting to ramble on in my brain, and the quiet of the mostly abandoned lot is fading fast. I can never get a simple peace of mind for more than a few seconds, and then it goes. With luck.

The elevator swooshes open, and I turn to find my unwilling partner head straight to me without so much a stare. His face looks a lot like Ms. PBJ, so it's not difficult to know where he went. I get in the vehicle without so much a grunt or sigh. After I start it up, and he's fastened, we go off to do our job, something I've never really did a lot of,

Seconds turn to minutes, and every moment during the ride is another one where he's looking out the window without a peep. I'm beginning to like this guy. If he keeps this act up, he might just understand the finer points of being a cop "on duty." I make my turn and go in the direction I was planning all day, but apparently, he didn't.

"Where are we going? This isn't on our route." His voice is back, and hacking into my head with every letter. "Lt. Johnson told me all about you, and that was a lot more than in the report. I just want to say –"

"Look," I interrupt. "If you don't like me, take a ticket and wait in line." He's quiet now, but I think he's listening. Still focusing on the road, I let my thoughts take over my mouth as my body keeps going to where it needs. "Whatever you read in the report, I'm sure it didn't go past a page. And I'm sure there was more than a book's worth of text being spewed from that's bitch Katilan, right? I'm not about to try to change your opinion because I (sincerely) don't give a shit what you think about me."

Wow, that felt really relaxing actually. I turn my head just for a moment to look at him and make sure it hit home; and from what I see, it did. I continue to some cheap fast food joint that I know will be open this early. I'm anticipating that delicious pile-of-trash they serve, when Alex speaks up.

"I like you." Now that was a surprise, and even _I_ can't help but show it. Still focused on the path. "I understand that you're not the friendly chatter that most people are, like most normal people, but that's fine. I don't care for the normal crowd anyway." He takes a breath and continues. I almost want to ignore him, but that opening line still has me buzzing in my head.

"I used to be an officer on some of the colony worlds. I got transferred a lot for being… I guess I wasn't the most popular guy at the station, which I've never fancied being 'that-guy' anyway. Sorta like you, right?" This time, it's an actual question. I know this because he asked it again a little louder.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'm listening." I don't try hard to convince him, but he seems to go on anyway. We're about three minutes till arrival.

"I could have just transferred to another place that like the ones before, but I actually want to stay somewhere. The Citadel has millions of people, all from different backgrounds and races and cultures and everything. It's amazing."

"I know; I saw you gawking at the locals." I butted in to put my two cents down. No need for him to think I'm not listening. "A word of advice, don't start shit, _especially_ but being a tourist human amazed by the 'pretty colors' of a Turian or Salarian."

"Sure, sure, I didn't mean that. Actually, now that you mention it, you're kinda 'barefaced' right? I mean, with your personality I think it fits fine. There's a special note that Lt. Johnson made, and it was something along the lines of, 'Stuck up, piece of shit antiestablishment bull shit, Turian!' She said that one a lot."

I smirked and snorted. I tried to hold it in, but I just couldn't, and I actually showed a feeling to someone that's just above the level of stranger. I can't believe what I've just done, and I can't believe that he's smiling now – just as wide as I first met him. What is with this kid? I look back and see my exit coming up, I go through and I can recognize where I am without the navigator and holo-map.

"So, _partner_, like I asked before, where are we going? This isn't where we're supposed to be. I don't even think we're in our district anymore." Very observant of him, and almost feel up to explaining myself to him, but I hold back.

"Do you have money?"

He makes another face that looks like he smelled something funny. "Do I need to have money at this moment?"

"No," I say. "But you will in a minute." I pull up to the box to take my order. It's the usual, and the speaker knows who it is. I think next to Alex and Katilan, I talk to this person more than anyone else.

The speaker squeaks a barely audible, "Five-Fifty-Two"

I turn my head slowly to Alex and say, "So, _partner_…"

* * *

A/N: ...oh, that Kert. :D

I'm trying hard to stay true to all the characters, and their personalities. Alex's is a bit weak at the moment, but I'll be a better in the next chapter.

I predict that these two are going to be biffles.

As always, please leave your beautiful opinion on life and love and my story with a review.

PEACE&LOVE


	4. On the Job

A/N: Yeah, so this was just a few paragraphs before, but I kept expanding on it.

Plenty of drama between the duo, but no crime yet.

...but I promise, chapter 5, will be drama AND crime.

* * *

"Well, that tasted terrible." I always expect the same quality from this place, especially because I order the same meal every time. It's just something to keep me from being distracted while not doing anything. Every once in a while, like last night, they call all available cops in the area to arrive on the scene. I'd skip it (and one time I did) but they have trackers in the cruisers, so I never tried that again. I'm sure Alex is thinking about that right now, and is probably thinking of something or another.

"You want some? We can drive back around."

"Really?" He seems skeptical.

"Sure. I mean, you're paying but…"

He goes back to leaning in his seat and thinking about how wrong this whole day is going. It's his entire fault for thinking being a cop is all glamour and fun, but I'm too content with my paid meal to bring him down lower. I'll set him straight eventually, and then he'll understand.

"When do we start doing stuff?" He sounds like a kid when he says that, and I almost want to slap him in the back of the head. Still complaining, he says, "I mean, don't get me wrong, not doing our _job_ is exciting as ever. But you do realize we eventually have to help people?"

"Look here." I point to the dashboard – more specifically the radio.

"What? You also spend your time listening to what other cops are doing?" If he keeps up this sarcasm I think I might start to like him. Whatever to that.

"No newbie, this is where we get our _job_ to do. Some person on the other side of this will get a call from someone in help – usually a drunk or a fight. Then we meet up on the scene and do, as you say, our _job_. Okay?" I tried to stay monotone, but I couldn't help but let some contempt slip out. I really don't like it when I'm in the area and have to settle shit. Most times I'm able to be the second closest car to the "action" or what you want to call it. I haven't actually had to help someone for a few weeks now.

It was a couple, and he hit her, and the neighbor called, and the story follows as it always does. She wanted to help him. He wanted me to leave. The neighbor wanted them to separate for _her_ sake. The whole thing was just annoying, and eventually I just arrested the couple. The neighbor thought that was a bit much, to which I replied, "If you don't like it, I'll just make some room in the back for you." The couple was released later on.

That's just how it goes for me. I try to avoid as much as I can, and when I can't, I pick the easiest solution possible. Some would criticize that as being lazy, but I just feel it's making the smarter decision. Why waste time on something when you can solve it without any thought whatsoever? Sure, I could have just arrested the husband, and asked the wife how she was, then ask the neighbor to take care of her, file charges on the husband, check on the wife and neighbor, and so on and so on.

That's just a waste of time, and far more challenging. Just settle it then and there.

I'm lying back in my seat, letting my breakfast settle down, when the radio loudly projects itself in the cabin. It's something about a person that has a druggie resting outside their house. We get those, and it's just me kicking them awake and expressing just how much of a petulance they really are. Of course, if they don't cooperate, I just arrest them and let them get down off their high in jail. In any case, I'm not going.

Leaning back in my seat, I feel the presence next to me become volatile. I'm not sure I even want to turn, but I do, and I see Alex – arms folded and mouth ajar – looking right back at me as though I did something completely unexpected. Like hell I'm going to let this new punk try to convince me to go when I don't. I look back out the front window, stopped in a mostly empty parking lot, just relaxing and feeling at ease. If it weren't for the energy drink I had I might've just took a nap right here.

"What is such the big deal?" Alex exclaims right when I feel mostly at peace with my surroundings. He starts huffing about how we should take the initiative, and how this could earn him a little respect for his first bust. "C'mon, Kert! Look if it's the paper work I can- "

"It's not that." My voice is calm, but only because I'm full, and soon I won't be so docile if he keeps going on with twenty-questions when I'm _clearly_ not in the mood. Sitting back up, I rest my hand on his shoulder (a type of intimidation technique) and use the other hand to balance myself in the car. "Look, I'm starting to get use to you paying for my meals and not talking, so if we can keep that up I think we could have a serious, lasting partnership. So, as for this whole lets-be-super-cops-thing, I think staying here for a while is the best option available, okay? Okay."

I feel it's over, so I don't bother waiting for him to answer me. I just lie back into my spot and settle there. Then I hear the radio turn on, and he's talking into it saying we're on it. He looks right back at me, knowing how much that just pissed me off, and says, "I guess you have to go now." He thinks I'm not going to hit him, and that I'm not going to pull that hair on his head and drag him out of the cruiser, tell him to go and solve the case himself, and drive away in a fury as he rights himself up in a mostly deserted lot.

But that smile – that genuine feeling he keeps shining on me – it's getting to me, and starting to get on my nerves. Still glaring right at him, I slowly start the vehicle, and set a course for wherever this fucking low life is sleeping. And now he's leaning back and carefree, relaxed, chilled.

"HEY!" I shout, waking him out of his doze. "Get fucking ready, because this may be one of those sleeping addicts, or maybe an explosive, kamikaze addict. You didn't want to sleep on the job, so wake up!" He's a bit startled, and I'm glad. Just like everyone else in society; they want to save the world from the comfort of their bed. Hypocritical bastards, at least I'm _honest_ about my intentions. We're back on the streets and I'm going to where the radio says I need to be, something that's all too unfamiliar.

I feel like I should scare him a little more to prepare him for this, but I have to ask first, "How many times have you arrested someone?"

Clearing his throat, "Uh, I've never actually been the one to officially arrest the person, whomever it was." He doesn't seem to mind the fact that we're about to go for a possibly dangerous drug-fused criminal and he's never even put cuffs on someone. What the hell does this little bastard think?"

I don't even look back at him. "So you've never put someone in jail, yet you've been on… How many transfers have you had?" He's still quiet, so I guess I'm hitting all the right notes. "Look here," I snap my fingers to get him to look at me, without me having to look at him. "I don't know where you learned how to be little shit, but it's starting to annoy the hell out of me. You got that?" He's still not answering me, and I'm getting annoyed how he's not answering my questions. "These _are_ directed to you, you know. Have you never even been in a cruiser before?"

"Of course I have, you ass!" Finally. "Look, I get it, you don't like having the inexperienced newbie, well neither did anyone else on the team."

"Of course you, wait… What was that?"

To say I'm a little shocked would be hitting the nail on the head with a wrecking ball. I wasn't going to push it; it didn't seem like I needed to know it. He seemed to think otherwise as he began to explain a little more fully why he was _my_ partner instead of someone else's.

"There are many C-Sec police that need a partner, but most of them have done a lot, made enough arrests and done enough paper work that they can deny a partner if they just say so." He starts every monotone, but slowly he gets more aggravated, and starts to sound as pissed off at everyone as me. "In the end, just because I never made an arrest, and never stayed at one station for longer than a year, they felt I didn't have the 'necessary requirements' to be part of C-sec. My ass I didn't. I'm just as qualified as you…" He stops there for a moment and breaths and calms himself down. We're about a minute out.

"You're one of the lowest ranking officers on the whole station. The only people lower than you are recruits, and once they make a few arrests they already have more merits than you have penalties and marks. In short, the reason I'm with you is because we both suck."

I'm someone who doesn't just take that lying down. "Now who are you saying sucks, 'cus I know you're not talking about me."

"Oh shut it," he tells me as we're almost there. "Lt. Johnson thought the best way to get rid of the worst was to put them together. That's what she explained to me this morning before we left." Well that certainly explains why he was so quiet and emotionless. Oh fuck me; I'm as bad a fucking recruit? Shit now that is a pretty low blow, even to me.

I stop the cruiser where the call was placed, and I step out of it with Alex mirroring me. I guess he is probably asking himself, "Oh fuck me, I'm as bad as _him_?" Well that's just the way life works some times, and it certainly is just the way _my_ life works, sometimes. I guess we have that in common too.

* * *

A/N: So, Kert is certainly resenting his new partner, and Alex doesn't seem too happy about being here either.

Please say something if the two of them are off in one way or another.

Chapter 5, we get to meet a druggie!


	5. Crime Stoppers

A/N: This is a longer one because I took a little longer than I should've.

Alex's first arrest, and he's excited!

* * *

"Oh, finally! POLICE! Get this man out of my sight!" Seeing the passed out human laying on the steps like a dead body, and then the said owner (whom we heard from the moment we left the cruiser) it was easy to tell who called this "emergency" and who's passed out on who-knows-how-many chemicals. "Arrest this fiend. ARREST HIM!"

The frantic person is a salarian chain-store owner on the citadel. He works here and there when you see him, but most of his business is behind the scenes – nothing criminal as far as I can tell. I mean he's freaking out about an unconscious drug addict, so I'm not too sure he's into shadowy business deals.

As for the person on the floor, I can't really make out his face. He's faced down with only the back of his shaved head showing. Every time he jerks a muscle of he shifts his body, the salarian squeaks like a chew toy. I tell Alex to go over and calm him down while I take a look at the perk. He gives me a look like I'm going to do something off-book, but I don't have that intention, really. I quietly say, "I'm not going to ruin your _first big arrest_, so relax."

Walking up to the salarian I introduce my partner and myself. My voice isn't that authoritative, and I get a nasty look from and I think about how much of a snob he is. I almost want to leave him there with the other guy just in spite. I'm a man of the law and all that crap, and should be respected and shit. Well, whatever, I'm here anyway so I shouldn't waste the trip. "My partner, Officer Alexander Mitzka will help you calm down, sir." I turn and crouch to the perk while behind me Alex starts getting the full blast of the salarian's "…respectable status in society, and a successful merchant, and should be treated as such…" and blah blah blah.

It's hard to sorta concentrate with that distracting me, so I drag the guy by the shoulders away from the steps and onto the more open walkway. I lay him face up this time, so I can tell whom we got here. Looks like some powerful drugs, because he's still awake, I think. Mouth ajar (mumbling something only he can hear) and bloodshot eyes, his shirt is dirty but not as nasty as his skin. It's some weird color that should be a batarian's, not a human's. For a second, a split moment, I almost feel bad for him.

"Alex!" He and the salarian turn to me. "I think we got a corpse on our hands…"

Alex looks like he's telling the salarian to stay as he jogs towards me.

"What is it? He's dead?" He seems frantic, but I'm not sure if it's because this was his big break, or because this guy's a goner. Maybe he's going over regulations and rules in his head to deal with this, which is fine by me if I don't have to lift a finger.

"Just take a look, and tell me that he's alive and well." I'm already over it, and want to laugh, with two days in a row of dead people I feel a sense of déjà vu. I look back at the salarian, and then back to Alex, then at the cruiser and start to wonder how to get out of this without any paper work. I shouted that he's dead but I could convince the salarian I was mistaken, and we can put the body somewhere else. I'm in the middle of some plans when Alex says, "What are you talking about? He's alive."

I'm shocked to think he can't tell the difference between death and life, but I'm even more shocked when I put my finger to his mouth, and feel breath through my fingers. "What the fuck?" That's all I'm able to say before I notice my partner running to the salarian, then back to me with his hands reaching for his standard given handcuffs. "Alright, you're under arrest, you _perk_!" He's seems to giggle with excitement.

"Alex, what are you doing? He's just a breathing corpse." I'm not so much pissed off, as I am awe struck by how happy he is to be making an arrest.

He's putting the cuffs on the guy, then looks at me with that _fucking_ grin on his face if just to say, "Right, so he's not going to put up much of a struggle. Here, I got his left, you get his right." I can't even talk, and yet I have so much I want to say. I just fold my arms and shake my head left and right.

"Fine, I… uh, I got it…" He lifts the guy on his feet and starts dragging him to the car without me. I'm flabbergasted by the scene of a 5'10" officer struggling to put an emancipated sudo-dead human in the back of a cop cruiser as he huffs out his Miranda rights along the way. I'm on the verge of cracking up but I compose myself. He looks at me and shouts "Explain the procedure to him then," and he shoots his eyes to the salarian still on his doorsteps – probably confused and bemused by what's happening.

I'm at a lost as what to say, but I have to at least tell him off. I stand where I am, and yell at the salarian, "It's okay, we're cops, and we have the situation under control." Alex is slamming the door and calmly walking over to me to tap my shoulder and say we both have to "book him up," and "bring him downtown," and some other cop crap that he's been dying to say, I'm sure.

He drags me a little by the shoulder to get us out of here. I get the message, though I'm tired of him convincing me this way or that. I nod to the salarian and hop back into the driver's seat with Alex already next to me. I start the car, check our new passenger (he looks the same, so he's still alive, sorta) and off we go back to the station.

"Oh my God! I'm so… I mean can you believe it? It's like I was supposed to make this arrest. Shit, that was exhilarating! I've never felt this good when being a cop before." The way he's talking it would seem he's describing single-handedly bringing down a whole crime syndicate instead of cuffing a barely stable addict.

"Just calm down for a second." I can't just let Alex's mind wander like that. It's a dangerous world and there's a lot more of people like this guy, and they're not all as docil and unnamed as he. So I try to lay down some reality on him by explaining, "This is your first arrest, but don't blow it up to feel better about yourself. You got some junkie that still has a beating heart, and barely that much. Just keep a leveled head, and watch out because that could've became a mess." I see the change in his expression, but he's not sad.

He sighs and tilts his head back, like he's going to talk to the sky. "Look, I get it, you're trying to downplay this whole thing because I'm actually doing my job." What the hell is this crazy human spewing? Alex is saying this as-a-matter-of-fact and I'm almost unsure of whether he knows what he's doing. "You're afraid that I'll be rising above you soon, and then I'll transfer to another partner so I can rise in rank. And now you want to put me down so you make me feel like I have to stay with you. I get it…"

Giving him a look like _he's_ the one on drugs, I say, "If you start making assumptions like that, to me, in this crusier…" I let the pause hang in the air just so I can give him some space for his imagination to expand. "I'll kick you out."

He scoffs and asks, "Kick me out? Where?"

"Out of here. I'll kick you out of your seat."

He's still smiling and shaking his head like it's some joke. So to make things more serious, I open his door from my side while we're driving down the highway. His expression went from black to white faster than the speed we're currently at.

"OKAY! OKAY! I GET IT! YOU'RE NOT WHAT I SAID! I'M SORRY!" Now that makes me just crack up. I'm laughing so loud that it's over the noise of the other cars and cabs and the wind combined. I look at him and I'm still hysterical. I look into the back to see if our arrest is having a fun time too. I continue to drive with the door open since you can't close it at this speed. A little lesson for Alex to learn: if you have an opinion on me, then save it for yourself.

.

..

…

..

.

We put the chem.-guy to some other cop to take him to a hospital or jail or whatever. Point is we made an arrest. Not about to say I'm so proud to be working for this society and all that, but it feels good to be sitting at my desk, even without actually sitting. They say that I'll get a new chair tomorrow or something.

I start to get comfortable where I am, about to breath in the solidarity of my own office once again, when the door swishes open and Alex is standing there pushing a large metal desk. It's scratching the floor, and like nails on chalkboards, I feel my brain tear and crack with each loud screech that is made. He, on the other hand, seems oblivious to it as he continues to move it (for some strange reason) in my general direction. The door is about to close again, but he makes one final push and the desk gets slammed between the two sides of the door.

Locking the door on open, I take a look at what's before me, and I almost can't believe he moved a desk from spirits-know-where all the way to my office. It's just so sad that I'm going to tell him to put it back where he found it.

"Alex."

"Hey, Kert! We're gonna be office mates!"

I want to slap the stupid out of him then step on his face and pull every tooth out of his mouth so I can never see that _mother-fucking _smile! I've only been around him for a few hours, and that's already too much for me. I start to push the desk back to him.

"The hell we are!"

"What? C'mon, Kert, be nice. This wasn't my idea anyway."

"I don't care whose idea it was!"

We're both pushing it back and forth, and it just keeps screeching, but I'm deaf to it now. I'm noticing that everyone else around is just cramming things into their ears and shouting at us, but it's not loud enough for me to ignore. Wow, Alex is actually pretty strong, or maybe this desk is heavy. We're about equal at this, with me pushing half his desk out of my room, and him pushing his half into mine.

I shout one more time, "Alex, who the fuck told you it was alright to move yourself into my office." I'm about to loose my grip when the door closes on the desk, keeping it from moving and making me and Alex flinch. Standing at the controls with her feet on my desk, again, it's Katilan.

Alex just rests on his side of the desk, points at her, and sighs.

"So, you actually did something useful. I'm proud of you." I'd actually thank her if I could actually see the compliment past that smoke of sarcasm that's running from her mouth like a bundled fire.

I respond the same with, "I'm just happy to make _you_ happy."

"Oh, but you make me smile everyday, Vantaleese. In fact, seeing you now, just like this, makes me laugh." She ends that note with a deep and sinister look that is all too familiar to me. I can't believe we were partners once. That seems like such a long time ago, but not long enough to get senile and forget it ever happened.

She would try to go out of her way to find the criminal and free the hostages and all the dangerous shit I would avoid because I actually like being alive. She would be commemorated and I'd be standing next to her. She always knew I didn't like her style, and that we had conflicting personalities, so when she was able to advance and leave me behind, she barely looked back.

I'm not bitter. She was always bitching about how I need to get off my "lazy ass and get with the program." All these little sayings that humans use were given from her to me. They were the only real things I gained from being her partner. Well, that, and a lowered tolerance to her bullshit. And just like now, with this whole situation.

"If you think I'm going to bend over for you so you can just laugh whenever you walk past me, you better – "

"Kert! One: I don't care. Two: I won't care. And three: I will never stop laughing at you. And you _will_ share this pit-stain of an office with this newbie and you _will_ take him out on patrol everyday for the rest of your fucking career." She looks at him then turns back to me. Moving in close, she whispers in my face, with her short red hair seeming to point at me like Medusa with her snakes. Still as stone, I hear, "At least, until he gets sick of you, just like everyone does. And I mean _everyone_."

Her exit comes as quickly and wanted as her arrival. I never wanted to actually kill someone for no other reason than to teach them a lesson, but with her, it's different. I don't want to even make it painful. I just want her out of my life.

"I wish I never had to see her again." I guess I let that thought escape, and Alex overheard it. He jumps over the desk and slide over to my side. He sits on a corner and looks at me (blue eyes filled with intense conviction) and says, "I completely agree, but there's only one way you can do that." I wait, and he answers with that I didn't want to hear. "_We_, and that mean you _and_ I, have to work together, and work hard, so we can advance above in rank. She'll stop messing with us if we start becoming important here, and she won't push us around like before."

"She can't do jack shit to me." I kick his desk and scowl, pacing around the now tinier space I have left. I don't want to try, I've done so well not trying; I don't succeed or fail or anything in between. I'm in a stable area without the rollercoaster of a ride that comes roaring when you put effort into something. Anything.

"I still don't like you." I look at the floor, my feet, and at nothing.

"You will." I shoot a look his way, and he's just calmly sitting there looking back. "Now, help me move this desk all the way in, partner." He opens the door, locks it, gets to his side and waits for me to help. I lean against the wall for a few seconds thinking about this day, about what I expected and what I've been getting so far.

I sigh as I walk over to his side of the desk and push it along the floor.

* * *

A/N: Is...Is Kert learning to c-c-care?

Or maybe he's just coming down from his energy drink.

They'll just be sitting in the office in the next chapter talking about themselves.

AND WE FINALLY FIND OUT WHY KERT DOESN'T PUT EFFORT INTO ANYTHING! : D

I wanna say thank you to you guys: twilight, hannibal, and somebody!

PEACE&LOVE


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